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  • Writer's picturehelenryghpedersen

The S.S. Catacomb

She gasped as a rush of freezing oxygen blasted into her lungs. Her eyes snapped open. She couldn’t see anything bar her own startled reflection on black glass. Her heart raced with fear. The last thing she remembered was a monk holding a cup of water to her parched lips as she lay amongst the dead and dying.

Suddenly, a pale green square flashed onto the convex glass before her and in it appeared the face of a smiling woman. Her dark hair was plastered to her oval head, her eyes vacant.

“Welcome to the S.S. Catacomb. We hope you have had a pleasant rest. The year is 3126-”

Her jaw dropped. Only a moment ago it had been the year of Our Lord 1665.

“We are currently traversing the Ypsalia constellation and may experience turbulence.”

Light began to filter in from behind the green woman and she could see people in strange silver garments being driven around in chairs…chair which moved by themselves.

She made a sign of the cross. “Witchcraft!”

“Your sample has been requested.” The green woman smiled blankly. “Take care when alighting the pod and use the chair provided.”

With a hiss of pressurized air, the glass swung open. Tentatively she stepped forward into the blinding white light, testing her unsteady legs. After centuries dormant, they rebelled and pitched her into the awaiting hexed chair. She clung on for dear life as it moved along an invisible trajectory through the sterile corridors of the S.S. Catacomb.

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